


Once and Never Again

by emmykay



Category: Persuasion - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28253346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmykay/pseuds/emmykay
Summary: He had grasped her hand in his free one. "Don't be sorry. Don't. Not for being who you are, and feeling what you do. I'm not.""Then neither am I," she had said.
Relationships: Anne Elliot/Frederick Wentworth
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	Once and Never Again

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: wrist kissing

The news that the Crofts might rent Kellynch had sent Anne, finally freed of social obligation to Mr. Shepherd and filial duty to her own father, to walk off the rising sensation of her own feelings in a favorite grove, far from the house and any curious looks.

She had grown up among these trees and counted on them as a form of guardian, of constancy. The grove had been a comfort to her during the darker times of her life; when her mother had passed, when she had made the most difficult decision to break with Frederick, when she had decided to refuse Charles Musgrove's suit and perhaps consign herself to nothing more than a secondary role in the matters of the heart for the rest of her life.

She could no more stay inside than she could fly, or see into the future. Still, if seeing into the future were a skill, she perhaps would have chosen another place to cool her flushed cheeks. She should not have gone into the grove at all. Seeing the familiar trees, their shady cover, the graceful bends of their branches, also gave rise to another memory, one far different than the others.

It had been merely a few months into their acquaintance, but impetuous, bold Frederick had walked with her here, and he had stood with her near these trees, in this shade, beneath these branches. He had a graceful physical manner that caught her eye, and a wit that had made her laugh, and while his voice was on its way to becoming the sea-roughened tones of a career sailor, he could still speak in a way that made her want to hear nothing else.

Anne had a book in hand, had dropped it, and Frederick had picked it up. Before he could return it properly, she had extended her hand, smiling up at him. He had returned the book with a joke. She had put her fingertips to her mouth, covering up an expression that had been too open, too glad to his presence, his favor. She had apologized.

He had grasped her hand in his free one. "Don't be sorry. Don't. Not for being who you are, and feeling what you do. I'm not."

"Then neither am I," she had said.

He had taken the fingers of that hand, those fingers that had lately been on her own mouth, and touched them to his lips. He had looked at her, his eyes dark, his expression intent. She had known, even then, that as he held her hand, that a single look, a tiny movement, a negative utterance, and the matter would have ended, never to be spoken of again. Anne's knees had shaken even as she stood there, a deepening blush on her cheeks.

"Frederick," she had said. She had smiled at him.

"Anne." He had then kissed the area underneath her fingers, her palm, the pad of muscle at the base of her thumb. His mouth was warm, his lips so very soft. In the cup of her hand, she had felt the tip of his nose, the heat of his breath, the faint raspy brush of his chin and cheeks. He had reached the base of her wrist and she had watched as he brushed his lips over the sensitive skin. Unthinkingly, she had reached out to touch his hair, which had been gilded gold by the soft sun coming through the leaves.

He had stopped to look at her, his own face had reflected the hectic color Anne was certain was in hers.

"Anne. Will you do me the honor?"

"Yes, Frederick," she had said, with a great swelling in her heart. "I will."

He had pressed her hand to his chest, and while he smiled, his eyes dampened in the corners. "My Anne." After a moment, he looked at her again, quizzical. "Where is the book?"

"Oh!" She had looked down at her empty hand, and then around where she had stood. It was Frederick who had spotted it first. It lay on the ground between them. Unknowingly, consumed with all that was between her and Frederick, Anne had dropped it again.

And they had laughed.

She had never laughed like that again.

Anne sighed. What, she wondered, would come should Frederick arrive in Kellynch now, after all these years?


End file.
